It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional. This may have nothing to do with the acts we have committed, or the humors we do go in and out of. It may be only the room--a cube--having no persuasive powers of its own. The room simply is. To occupy it, and find a metaphor there for memory, is our own fault.
Thomas Pynchon reflects on the nature of confession and memory in relation to our surroundings. He suggests that a simple desk and writing supplies can transform any space into an outlet for personal revelation, regardless of the individual's actions or emotional state. This transformation, however, is not due to the inherent qualities of the room itself, but rather the perspective of the person occupying it. The mere existence of the room...
